Son, you have a job to do
by MandyAnn
Summary: DH - At King's Cross Harry requests to speak to one more of the dead. A nice little moment between Harry and James. Fluffy and Cheesy First fanfic in 2 years reviews greatly appreciated.


"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say good-bye for the present."

Harry nodded, staring at the ground. An idea occurred to him, one, he had to admit, he was rather embarrassed to admit.

"Er – Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"You're – You're dead right?" He wasn't sure quite why he had asked such a stupid and obvious question.

"We have established this, yes." Dumbledore spoke kindly as if it wasn't a stupid question at all "Is there something troubling you?"

"I'm talking you…I mean…" Harry searched desperately for the words. "Is there anyway...Before I go back – "

"Ah, Harry, if I am correct you wish to speak to someone else who has moved on." It was a statement, not a question.

"Er…yeah…I'd like to see my Dad…Is it possible?" Harry continued to stare at the ground, wondering why, when in his mind he had imagined asking for so much more, for everyone who had accompanied him to the forest, he had asked for only one. Perhaps he knew that asking for too much would mean that he could have nothing at all.

"My dear boy…" Dumbledore started, but the mist once again descended on them, blocking his headmaster's image from view, and seemingly muffling his voice.

Deciding not to act, Harry stood, still and rigid, waiting…

After several minutes or perhaps it was only seconds, the mist thinned again, and where Dumbledore had stood, was a man, slightly taller than Harry, with untidy black hair, and round-framed glasses, slightly askew. It took a moment for Harry to register, from the hazel eyes staring back into his green ones that it wasn't his reflection that was staring back at him.

"Dad…?" He whispered. His voice seemed to carry descending back to his ears from the high ceiling.

"Son!" James Potter beamed widely, walking towards Harry, stopping soon enough to leave a few steps between them.

"Er…" Something struck Harry. What was he supposed to say to his dead father? It wasn't as if they really knew each other at all. As if the man before him really was a reflection, his brow furrowed, as Harry was sure his own had.

"Where to start…" James began his face full of pride "Harry Potter, you've been brilliant."

"Yeah…I…" Harry didn't want to talk about himself. He had other people to do that with. And who could tell how much time he'd have with his father?

"I know, I know, I'm sure you don't want to hear it." James Potter smiled "Dumbledore has told me how humble you are."

"Dad…I – I want to talk about you…" Harry searched for his next words. "…About Mum…"

Just as they had in Dumbledore's presence two chairs seemed to appear from nowhere, as if they had been there the whole time. James took one and motioned Harry to the other.

"Well, what can I tell you that you haven't heard from everyone else?" James thought "You know I was a Gryffindor seeker, that I helped write the Marauder's map..." He ran through all of the Hogwarts exploits Harry had been told about by numerous people.

"Why were you so cruel to Snape?" The words had burst out of Harry before he could help himself. James appeared to think for a minute.

"You're a man now Harry. I'm sure there's been a girl that you've really cared for?" James asked half-smiling as Harry felt his face flush. He thought of Ginny immediately.

"Yes. My best mate's sister…Ginny…"

"Harry was there a time when she was with another boy? When as much as you wanted her, some one else had her attention, and affection?"

"Yeah." Harry thought of the feeling he got when heand Ron had seen Dean and Ginny snogging, he remembered the beast that seemed to rise inside him.

"Were you angry at him, for no real reason, other than that he had somehow beat you to the girl you wanted?" The smile on James's face faltered and fell away. Harry remained silent and James took that as his answer.

"You see? I always loved your mother. Thinking back, I was lucky."

Harry looked up into his father's face.

"Lucky that Severus was the only one that seemed to take interest to the extent that I had. Other boys liked her, but not enough to pursue her as I had. Really I can't see why. Cunning, beautiful, and so kind…Not to me mind you, she hated me for six years before she gave in and came out with me." James laughed nostalgically, a hint of sadness in his face.

Harry smiled, wishing he would have asked Dumbledore to see both of them.

"I only wish I could have held _him_ off, and that she could have lived, so that the both of you could have been happy." There were tears in James's eyes now. Despite this being his first real meeting with his father, the image disturbed Harry slightly. Sons weren't supposed to see their fathers cry, were they?

"I'm sorry about the Dursleys Harry, really…" James was really crying, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes "I'm so proud…so proud that after all that neglect" James's hand reached out to rest over Harry's heart "You're still so kind, full of so much love."

"Dad…" Harry felt the awkwardness, and uncertainty he had been feeling melt away, and it seemed that it was looking for an escape, pricking at his eyes.

He embraced his father, whom he had wished to see for 16years. One tear rolled silently down his cheek, while James patted his back. After what felt like not nearly enough time James pulled away, resting his hands on his son's shoulders, looking him up and down. Harry was embarrassed, certain that his eyes were bloodshot.

"You're a good man Harry. Your mother and I love you so very much." One more tear fell behind the glinting spectacles of James Potter. "Now, son, you have a job to do."

The mist descended back over Harry's surroundings. He felt the weight of those words, the truth of the matter. He _did_ have a job to do. And he'd fight. He'd fight like his father had, protecting the people he loved.

He found himself on the forest floor, the smell of grass filling his nostrils…


End file.
